


Sunday Best

by brooklinegirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Frank wears panties.</p><p>(desfinado did an icon meme where she talked about this icon:</p><p>
  <img/>
</p><p>and it sort of...stuck with me. For a long long long time. And inspired this fic. So this one is for you, desfinado. With much love. ♥)</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Best

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mrsronweasley for the fantastic and swift beta, and for making me work harder on the orgasm. ♥
> 
> shiningartifact did an awesome podfic of this story, [here](http://shiningartifact.livejournal.com/52772.html)!

Gerard was maybe more drunk than he thought. Which had to be a pretty bad thing, considering he was already having to squint one eye shut in order to aim while he took a piss. He _felt_ fine - he felt fucking great, on top of the world. He flushed the toilet and went to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He swayed forward, squinting - he was pretty sure he _looked_ fine, too. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes with the palm of his hand, studied himself in the mirror for a second, tilting his chin up and pouting, before letting his hair flop back down and scratching at it 'til it was all in his face again.

He was cool. He was good. He ran his hands under the cool water for a few seconds and was wiping them on his jeans when the door crashed open with a bang behind him.

"Oh! Sorry!" Frank flashed him a grin, but didn't back out of the room. Gerard could hear the post-gig party going on loud and strong, raucous laughter cutting through the air in the handful of seconds before Frank swung the door shut.

"No, it's cool." Gerard stood there with his still-damp hands, realizing belatedly that he should probably have left while the door was still open. As a bathroom visit was usually a one-person operation. In his experience.

"I gotta piss," Frank said, unbuckling his belt. "Don't worry, you can keep -" he glanced at Gerard as he fumbled with the button at the top of his jeans. "Uh, doing whatever it was you were doing."

"Making faces in the mirror," Gerard confessed, leaning back against the sink. He'd splashed when he washed his hands, and now the seat of his jeans was wet, but he was at least being propped up, so that was okay.

Frank giggled, high-pitched and - high. Pot giggle.

"You scored," Gerard said accusingly. "And you didn't share." Not that Gerard needed to be high as well as drunk. Although. Maybe he needed to be high as well as drunk. Maybe then he'd stop making faces in the mirror.

"I did!" Frank giggled again. He seemed to be having a really hard time undoing his jeans. He'd gotten _good stuff_. "I'll share, I'll share, just lemme - ah, got it."

Gerard watched, leaning against the sink and blinking slowly, as Frank sighed happily and peed. It was maybe weird that he was watching, but hey, he'd been here first.

"Where'd Mikey get off to?" Frank asked.

"Hooked up, probably." Gerard shrugged. "It's why we get to stay here tonight."

"That brunette with the shiny top?" Frank asked, still peeing. He'd really had to go, Gerard guessed. It was kind of impressive.

"Yeah." Gerard chewed on his thumbnail. "And her boyfriend, I think."

Frank giggled again, and his jeans slipped down his ass a little bit. There was a hint of pink, and Gerard squinted, trying to bring his eyes into focus. Pink. Not even just like, regular pink, like oh, briefs got caught in with a red t-shirt pink. It was like, hot pink, bright, and - lacy. Lacy. Frank sighed again, his pee slowing down, and he wiggled his hips a tiny bit, his pants slipping down just enough more that Gerard could see the hot pink lace a little more clearly, stretched over Frank's ass, inside his ratty jeans, the ones with the knees ripped out and the stains all over.

"Okay!" Frank hiked the denim up and Gerard bit his lip, watching as Frank buckled the heavy black belt he had on, cinching it tight and flushing the toilet. Frank turned around, beaming at him. "Let's hit the fridge, and head out back. I'll share. For you, I'll share." He stood there, very close in front of Gerard, sort of staring at him weirdly, and Gerard bit his lip harder, tried to think about something other than pink lace under denim.

"Uh." Frank was holding his hands out. "Can I get in there?"

"Oh!" Gerard shifted out of the way. "Yeah, uh."

Frank washed his hands, working up a lather and chattering gleefully while he did so - something about antibacterial soap and Mikey having good taste in threeways. Gerard got mesmerized watching his hands move around under the water.

Finally, Frank finished up and looked at Gerard as he dried his hands on the towel next to the sink. "You're zoning, Gee." He hung the towel back up neatly, straightening the edges, then slung his arm around Gerard's neck. "C'mon. I can help you zone more."

***

They cut through the kitchen on their way out back and Frank opened the fridge, studying the array of beers there before bending down and shifting them around, clearly looking for something particular.

"Get two each," Gerard said. "So we don't have to come back in so quick."

"You're always thinking, Gee," Frank mumbled, still hunting around in the fridge.

He was bent way over, his t-shirt hiking up in the back. Gerard couldn't see anything - just the pale skin of his back, the crossed guns - best tramp stamp ever, in Gerard's opinion. The panties had been low-cut - hot pink lace just covering Frank's asscrack - so of course they wouldn't show here.

Still, Gerard couldn't stop looking.

"Ah!" Frank emerged, finally, beaming with triumph, clutching the necks of two bottles of Rolling Rock in each hand. "And now, we party."

Gerard was probably slow in pulling his gaze up as Frank turned around, but all Frank did was grin and press two bottles into Gerard's hands. Gerard clutched them against his chest, the glass cool through the fabric of his t-shirt, and followed Frank out the back door.

It had been a hot, sticky summer, and tonight was no different. It was late enough that there was a breeze in the air, a small one, shifting the leaves around on the trees that surround the back yard. Gerard tried again to remember the name of the girl whose house this was, but he wasn't actually sure he'd ever learned it. It was a good set-up though - a tiny back yard, with a stone wall lining the area between the patio and the yard. The house had central air, though, so the back yard was pretty much deserted.

"This is why I'm a genius," Frank declared. He grabbed Gerard's arm, tugging him until he followed Frank around to the other side of the wall.

"I'm not sitting on the ground." Gerard eyed the shadowed side of the wall dubiously. "There could be, like." He shrugged. "Slugs."

"Slugs." Frank said the word with great amusement.

"Other things too." Gerard looked at Frank. "Stop laughing at me."

"Sit on the wall, Gee." Frank tugged on him some more - Frank was handsy when he was high - and pulled him to the far side of the wall, so they weren't right in front of the slider. It was darker here, and the stone wall was wide and smooth, and Frank was pulling a pretty full baggie out of his pocket, and all in all, the only way Gerard would have been happier was if they were doing this in his basement with his shoes off.

"So." Frank set down his two beers on the wall. He pulled out rolling papers, and laid one out carefully on his thigh. "This is really good stuff."

"Thank you for sharing," Gerard answered politely.

Frank grinned, blowing his bangs out of his face, and concentrating very carefully on tapping the pot into the paper. Gerard watched Frank's face. He was almost entirely in shadow, his lip ring just very occasionally catching the light from the house, and yeah, Gerard was zoning on that, even before smoking up. He remembered, suddenly, the two beers clutched against his now very damp chest and set one down next to Frank's two, lining them up so the labels all faced the same way. He took a long sip from the one in his hand, and sighed happily. Beer in hand, backup beer right there, Frank rolling what looked to be a spectacularly thick joint - "This is a good party."

Frank glanced over his shoulder back at the well-lit living room, full of people sprawled all over the place. "Eh." He carefully licked the edge of the paper, and sealed it, twisting the ends with a kind of flourish. "Voila."

"Who says voila?" Gerard asked, patting his jacket, looking for his lighter.

"You say voila." Frank watched him, joint between his thumb and forefinger, waiting for a light. "You say it all the time. You said it when you came on stage tonight." Frank's eyes followed Gerard's hands as he leaned back, checking his jeans pockets next. No lighter. "I'm pretty sure no one in that audience knew what 'voila' meant."

"You can't play to your audience. You gotta have your own style, if you know what I mean." Gerard gave up, blowing his breath out in frustration. "Why do I never have a lighter."

"Because you put it down every time you light a cigarette," Frank said. "And you never pick it up again." He squirmed on the wall, reaching into his pocket with the hand not holding the joint.

Frank didn't wear his jeans very tight - these ones were loose, and worn, with both knees torn out and some drawing in pen on one thigh. Actually - Gerard tilted his head - he was pretty sure he was the one who had drawn that vampire on there a few days ago back in the van.

He wondered if Frank had been wearing the same jeans since then - the lines were still pretty sharp.

He wondered if Frank had been wearing panties then, too, when Gerard was leaning half over him, drawing on his thigh, and not knowing.

Frank looked up at Gerard as he put the joint to his lips. "You're zoning again." The lighter flared and Frank carefully lit the joint, taking a deep inhale. There was a long moment where they only sound was muted chatter from the house. "Maybe you don't need this." His voice came out thick and throaty as he held the smoke in his lungs.

Gerard slouched back further on the wall, sweat making his t-shirt was stick to the small of his back under his hoodie. "You know you're gonna share, don't even front."

Frank grinned, and handed the joint over. "What can I say." The words came out on a puff of sweet smoke. "It's no fun to smoke up alone."

Gerard took a hit and held it in his lungs, watching as Frank leaned back on the stone wall, looking even looser than he had before. His head was tilted back, and he was looking up at the stars. Gerard could see his pulse beating in the curve of his neck.

Okay, now maybe he was zoning a little bit.

Frank must have noticed Gerard watching him just then, because he tilted his head and crossed his eyes. Gerard giggled, and Frank shifted until he was lying on his back, head on Gerard's thigh, knees up as he relaxed. He held up one hand, making a grabbing motion. "Gimme," he said.

Gerard obediently handed over the smoke, watching as Frank took a deep inhale, his chest rising with it, his t-shirt riding up a little over his belly as he held the smoke for a while. Gerard stared at the line where his jeans didn't quite meet the shirt. It was just skin, and in the dimness back here, residual light from the sliding door barely reaching them, Gerard couldn't see anything, not really.

He ran his fingers through Frank's hair distractedly, Frank's head heavy against his leg, a good, solid weight, making him feel like he was held down, tethered, safe. Frank took another hit before handing it over, and Gerard took it clumsily out of his fingers, still distracted. "Do you always wear panties?" he asked without thinking.

Frank choked out his lungful of smoke, half-sitting up as he tried to get his breath back.

Gerard patted his back. "Arms up," he suggested.

Frank put his arms up above his head, gasping and finally sucking in one lungful of air, then another, before collapsing back onto Gerard's leg. "What the fuck, Gee?" he choked out, but he was kind of grinning.

Gerard moved his jaw a little. Maybe this was one of those things he really should have thought about first. "I just - noticed. I mean." He stopped, looking down at Frank's face. He couldn't tell if Frank's cheeks were red because of choking, or something else. "I saw."

Frank was quiet. He took a quick drag then passed the joint to Gerard over his head. It was a tiny stump at this point, damp with Frank's spit, and Gerard thought about that as he took a hit, smoking up on weed and Frank.

"Not all the time." Frank was looking up at the sky as he said it, his eyelids heavy and drooping. "Don't you think you would have noticed before now?" He didn't sound mad or anything, just lazy and inquisitive.

Gerard thought about it. They spent a lot of time in the van. A _lot_. "Yeah." He would have noticed. "So just sometimes?"

Frank nodded slowly, the weight of his head shifting on Gerard's thigh. "Just sometimes."

They sat quietly there in the dark. Gerard could hear muted shouts and laughter coming from the house behind them, see the moving bodies packing the living room back-lit by the bright house lights, but out here, it was quiet and hot. Gerard shifted around to grab at one of the forgotten beers perched on the wall behind them - the bottle was sweating, the label peeling off at the edges, but the beer inside was still cool and felt good against his cottony mouth.

"Beer," Frank said vaguely. "Forgot about it - here." He pushed himself up to sitting and made grabby hands. Gerard obligingly handed over his bottle, before realizing that Frank probably wanted one of his own.

Frank drank it, though, three long gulps half-emptying the bottle, and Gerard got caught in watching his throat move as he swallowed. "Can I see them?" he asked.

Because his mouth operated independently of his brain at the best of times, and right now, his brain was moving slow like seaweed in dark water. He liked that image, and almost forgot about what he'd asked as he thought about it, thoughts drifting slowly with the movement of the tide.

Frank was looking at him with the bottle still to his lips, staring at him in the dark for a handful of seconds before slowly pulling the bottle away. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand before he said, "Sure."

Gerard blinked. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but Frank easy answer was so, so Frank. Not a whole lot threw him. "Thank you," he mumbled, like a tool.

Frank giggled, high-pitched, then muffled it with his hand as he threw a glance at the house over his shoulder. "C'mere," he said, sliding off the wall.

Gerard darted a quick look over his shoulder too, in solidarity, then climbed off the wall.

"Bring the beers," Frank said.

Gerard scooped them up - two in one hand, even - and turned around, and - Frank was gone. Gerard took one stumbling step forward, shifting the beers to clutch them protectively against his chest as he peered into the back yard.

He only shrieked a very little bit when something nudged his ankle. "Down here," Frank said. "And shut up."

"Oh." Gerard squinted down to where Frank was sprawled on the ground behind the wall, on the grass, hidden by the shadows. "Okay."

He didn't like grass that much - he giggled to himself, because, okay, he liked _grass_ , just not the stuff that grew in the ground - but Frank wasn't _right_ by the wall where stuff like bugs and snails were more likely to be, so Gerard got awkwardly down on his knees, Frank reaching up to relieve him of the beers.

Gerard sat cross-legged in the grass, pushing his hair out of his face. "Why are we - oh," he said, as the penny dropped. "Because they could see us." The party.

Frank laughed at him, but just a little bit. "Right, Gee." He was leaning back on his elbows on the grass, his head towards the wall, legs stretched out in front of him with one knee slightly cocked. His legs looked long from this angle, which was interesting, and Gerard shifted a little bit closer.

Frank was watching him, Gerard was pretty sure, even though he couldn't see Frank's eyes in the shadow. He could still hear the party, but it sounded very far away. "I mean," Gerard said, really fucking belatedly. "You don't have to."

One side of Frank's mouth quirked up, and he shook his head. "It's okay." He let himself fall back, his hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it, the heavy silver clanking a little as he released it. He undid the button, then slid down the zipper, and Gerard leaned forward without meaning to.

"Sorry," he muttered, tilting himself back, but Frank shrugged, and wriggled on the grass, his hips moving as he pushed his jeans down. Just a little, not all the way, just a few inches down his hips, just like they had slid down back in the bathroom.

That made it almost dirtier, Gerard thought, looking down. His eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and Frank's hips were out of the shadow of the wall, so he could see the lace against Frank's skin, stretched tight over his hips. He could see how it hugged Frank's dick, could see how the lace was stretched out in the front, and oh, oh man, he was looking at Frank's dick, and he'd leaned closer again, oops.

When he glanced quickly up at Frank's face, he expected to see Frank laughing at him, but Frank was just quietly watching him, leaning up on his elbows again.

"Do you think it's weird?" Frank asked, studying Gerard's face.

"No," Gerard said honestly. "But maybe I'm not the greatest judge of what's weird, you know?"

Frank grinned, sudden and bright. "I think you're kind of the _best_ judge of what's weird."

"Where do you -" Gerard started, then stopped. "I mean, how do you -" He stopped again. He had too many questions and not enough words. Did Frank get them from someone? Did he _buy_ them? How did he even know his size? How had they been driving to concerts in their van for months and Gerard had never seen, had never known?

Frank was still waiting, his mouth still quirked in a grin. "I need a full question if you want any answers," he said.

Gerard opened his mouth, shut it again, then said, finally, "I just never knew."  

Frank shrugged a little, letting himself fall back on the grass. "It's not a big thing." He lifted his hips up off the grass so he could zip back up and Gerard bit his lip, watching as the lace and Frank's dick and Frank's hips and all of those fascinating things disappeared under loose denim.

Frank sat back up then and held out his beer bottle to clink it against Gerard's. "Now you know," he said. He settled in the grass cross-legged, and started to tell Gerard about the new Bouncing Souls album.

When Ray came out to find them later, Gerard jerked up from where he had slumped over, leaning on Frank. His last beer - warm and mostly empty - was still clutched in his hand, and he and Frank both looked backwards over their heads to see Ray's crazy head of hair and concerned eyes looming at them over the wall.

"Oh good," he said dryly. "You're still alive."

"Yup." Frank struggled to his feet, sending Gerard tumbling onto the grass, but he put out a hand to tug him up after, so that was okay. "Alive and well and alive and good and -" 

"Okay." Ray held up both hands palms-out. "I get it. Will you two assholes please get to bed? The party's slowing down and we have to be on the road by noon."

"Okay," Gerard said agreeably.

"Okay," Frank echoed.

The both stood there, looking expectantly at Ray.

Ray sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "I am nowhere near drunk enough to deal with you two," he muttered. "Oh god. Okay. C'mon."

Gerard and Frank clambered over the wall and no one fell over in the process, so they high-fived each other, or tried, but mostly missed. Ray just patiently waited until they tried again (and missed again) before leading them into the house through the slider. The living room was dim, still scattered with people, but most of them were prone and all of them were drunk.

Gerard stepped carefully over two drunk boys in tight jeans, and one girl sleeping curled up in the doorway, and followed Frank, who was following Ray.

"Here." Ray stopped in a doorway and reached in, flipping a switch. Gerard peered in - it was a kids' bedroom, now really brightly lit, with two single beds, one on either side of the narrow room, and the walls decorated with, like, sharks and fish and shit. "You guys are in here, me and Otter are upstairs."

  "Where's Mikey?" Gerard yawned.

"Getting spectacularly laid," Frank answered instead of Ray, pushing past Gerard in the doorway and flinging himself on one of the beds. "Oh god," he mumbled against the pillow. "So much _space_." He stretched out, wiggling his limbs.

Ray grinned down at him. "Yeah, we picked this one for you, seeing as how this is pretty much equivalent to, like, a king-sized bed for you, right?"  

"I don't even hate you," Frank mumbled into his pillow. "Because I'm so happy."

"Twelve noon," Ray repeated sternly, taking hold of Gerard's shoulder and giving him a gentle push towards the bed. "I mean it."

  Gerard sank down onto the bed as Ray pulled the door shut behind him. Frank was still making happy noises into the pillow as Gerard leaned forward, trying to get his boots unlaced. He almost pitched forward off the bed, but caught himself just in time on the night table between the two beds, because he was just that coordinated.

  "Light." Frank's voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Shoes?" Gerard asked.

Frank shifted a little on the bed, toeing off his sneakers, which landed with two thumps at the foot of the bed. "Off," he mumbled.

Gerard wasn't sure if he was talking about his sneakers or the light, but he got up and hit the light switch by the door anyway. He slammed the foot of the bed hard with his knee when he walked forward into the dark, and then stepped on something soft on the floor and almost fell down before managing to slump sideways onto the bed. "Ow," he said quietly.

"'S'okay, Gee." Frank's voice was soft and not slurring, just - drowsing. "Bed."

"Bed." Gerard lay down, then got back up, pulled back the covers, and laid back down. His jeans were digging into his waist, and he got back up _again_ and undid his belt, pushing them down and off, and climbed back into bed, his briefs, t-shirt, and hoodie still on.

After he got the pillow tucked under his head perfectly, he sighed and opened his eyes to see Frank staring at him from across the way.

"You finished, Gee?"  

"Sorry." Gerard stared back at him. He was a little drunk, still, and a little high, still, but his brain wouldn't stop moving. He took a breath, watching Frank breathe across the way. Frank's eyes were still open a little, but Gerard couldn't tell if he was looking at him or what. The room was dim, but now that Gerard's eyes had adjusted, the light from the street outside gave enough glow that he could see more, watch Frank's chest move as he breathed, watch Frank's eyes blink slowly in the dark.

"What?" Frank said finally, slowly, pushing himself up on one arm just a little.

"What?" Gerard said, startled. "I didn't - nothing."  

"What." Frank said it again, same slow tone.

"Can I see?" Okay. So maybe Gerard's brain just wouldn't stop _fixating_.

Frank was silent for a long moment. "You saw."

"It was dark," Gerard objected. "I couldn't see the color."

"Pink," Frank said after another long pause.

"Hot pink," Gerard said.

  "See?" Frank said. "You already know."  

"I already know," Gerard agreed. "But I want to _see_." He was maybe more than still a little bit stoned. He knew this was probably crossing a line, that he was way past playing it cool. He knew he should be embarrassed, or apologetic, or something. He just didn't much care. "Can I?" He figured asking was the best - and maybe only - way of getting his brain to shut up.

Frank was quiet for what was probably a long moment, but Gerard lost track of time, staring across the dark room, trying to bring various things into focus, one at a time: Frank's lip ring, catching the light from the street light as he chewed on his lip; Frank's eyes, lost in shadows, but still open, Gerard was pretty sure; the sound of Gerard's own heart beating too loudly in his chest.

Finally, Frank shrugged with one shoulder and let himself fall back onto the bed. Gerard saw the shadows shifting, the covers being pushed down. He heard the heavy clink of Frank's belt, and the soft sound of the zipper, and then a flurry of fabric-sound as - oh, Frank was pushing his jeans down, and off.

It hadn't seemed weird when Gerard had done it. They did this all the time. Only, this time - Gerard had asked. Gerard had wanted to see. Specifically.

If Gerard hadn't seen earlier - if Gerard hadn't known already - man. He wondered how many times he had been with Frankie - passed out in the van slumped on top of each other, pressed together in a too-small motel bed - when Frank had kept his jeans on, and Gerard hadn't even noticed, or thought to wonder why.

"Okay." Frank's voice was low, and even though Gerard's eyes had adjusted, he still couldn't see much of anything, just the dark shapes of blankets on the bed across the way, and the shadow of Frank's eyes.

"Okay." Gerard's voice had come out weird and breathy. He cleared his throat. "Okay," he said again, but he still couldn't _see_. He slipped out of bed quickly, ending up on his knees on the floor between the two beds. He was so close to Frank now, and he leaned forward before he could think better of it. Frank's breath was coming steady, but a little quick, and he had pushed himself up on both elbows, watching Gerard.

Gerard was high, and drunk, and sleepy, and maybe that was why it was so easy to reach forward to push the blanket further down, to get the shadows out of the way. Maybe that was why it was so easy to let his fingers trace along the line of Frank's hip, where the hot pink lace stretched tight. He could feel how warm Frank's skin was right through the lace, feel where the elastic of the panties dug in just a little over Frank's hip.

The streetlight was bright outside and Gerard took a breath and a chance, leaning back just enough to push aside the curtain on the window in between the two beds, hoping that - yes, yeah, the light shone in just enough that Gerard could see it, could tell the hot pink against Frank's pale skin, see the lines of the birds on Frank's hips sliding underneath the lace.

When he glanced up, Frank was still up on his elbows, watching him.

"What are you thinking?" Frank asked softly.

It was sort of Gerard's very favorite thing to be asked no matter what, but right now in particular, it was _perfect_. "I love that you do this," he said, not letting himself think about it. "I love that it's something you do. I think that it makes you seem like, I don't know -" He paused, thinking about it. "More of a man, not less, like the assholes who don't get it say. I think -"

  Frank grinned at him, almost laughing, but Gerard didn't let it slow him down.

"I think that I wish I had known this before." His fingers were still on Frank's hip, tracing over the curling design of the lace. "I want to know about the other times. About every time." He looked up at Frank, blowing his hair out of his face. "I'm sorry if I'm being weird about it. I just -" He shrugged. "I like it."

Frank was laughing for real now, softly, but not mean. "I like _you_ ," he said finally, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes. "You're such a weirdo."

  He made it sound like a compliment. That was another reason why Gerard liked Frank. And he knew it was weird, he did, but something about the - he didn't even know, maybe it was the gender politics or whatever of Frank in panties and how when he was screaming and writhing it out on stage, sometimes he was in pink lace under all the denim and roughness and _no one knew_ \- something about that was just one of the coolest things Gerard had ever heard.

He was thinking about that more than anything else when he looked back down to where Frank was sprawled there, his t-shirt hiked up over his belly, panties stretched out over his dick, his belly moving in and out as he breathed. Gerard watched his own hand, resting on Frank's hip, and moved it, just a little. Just enough that his fingers were hooked into the waist of the panties, just the tips of his fingers nudging in against the delicate lace.

Frank sucked in a breath. "Gee," he said, and it came out quiet.

"I don't -" Gerard started, but the thing is, he _did_. "I just want to -" He stopped again, staring at Frank's face in the sideways glow of the streetlight through the window. He couldn't really see Frank's eyes, and that made it weirder, and he started to pull his fingers out, slowly.

Frank made this soft noise in his throat, and oh God, his head was tilted back, but his eyes were slitted open, looking at Gerard, watching, waiting, and Gerard didn't - he couldn't - his hand slid of its own accord, his fingers running slowly along under the waist of the panties until his hand was over the front of them. Over Frank's dick. Which was - hard, and getting harder. It wasn't like Gerard hadn't noticed that happening, but he'd been so fucking distracted and now -

"Gee." Frank said it again, his voice come out breathless and strained, and Gerard was looking up at him when he pressed his hand down, cupping Frank's hard-on through the hot pink lace. Both of them gasped at the sensation, and it should have been funny, but Jesus, it was just really fucking hot. Frank's dick was so hard, the lace stretched tight around it, barely holding him in. He'd fallen back against the pillow, and his breath was coming even faster now as he stared down at Gerard.

Gerard was caught between so many things: watching Frank's face, his mouth falling open as Gerard moved his fingers, tracing the soft lace over the hardness of Frank's dick. Glancing down to watch his fingers move, watch Frank's hips shift, see Frank's cock pressed up hard and tight against the lace, stretching it out. And feeling himself so fucking goddamn hard in his briefs, pressed up against the side of the bed.

He wanted to do so many things: jerk himself off while he stroked Frank off through the lace; get up on the bed, press down against Frank, thrust up against Frank's dick and the roughness of the lace until Frank was fucking begging for more; straddle Frank and just jerk off hard and fast, right there, watching Frank's dick press up against his panties, feel Frank's hands tight and desperate on his thighs, Frank's eyes on his dick as Gerard stroked himself harder, harder, and came, thick and hot, all over Frank's lace-covered dick.

 Gerard thought, in fact, that he might very well come just from being pressed against the side of this single bed any fucking second.

"Gerard." Frank grit out his name, and his hands were clenched in the sheets, his hips moving up against Gerard's hand. "Gerard, fuck, what the fuck - _fuck_ \- "

Frank's head was thrown back and he was keeping his voice low - lessons of hooking up in someone else's house - but his neck was sweaty, beads of it catching at the base, and he kept saying Gerard's name like that, so Gerard didn't let himself think. He just leaned in and put his mouth on Frank's dick. The lace was rough against his lips, against his tongue, and he ran his lips sideways along the length of it, his eyes closed, his mouth open, getting the lace wet, feeling the hardness and the heat against his tongue.

" _Uh_ ," Frank ground out, and one of his hands landed on Gerard's head, clenching his hair just hard enough that Gerard thought for a second he might actually come. "Jesus fucking Christ. Jesus fucking _Christ_."

His voice was really low and really desperate and Gerard was really in to the feel of the damp lace against his mouth, really fucking in to Frank's hips shifting frantically on the bed under him. When Gerard moved up to mouth at the head of Frank's dick through the fabric, Frank cursed, way too loud, and slammed one hand over his mouth, whimpering desperately from behind it. Gerard could still hear him, though, hear him muttering, "Fuck, gonna come, Jesus, Gerard, _fuck_ , Gerard, you're gonna make me - gonna make me - gonna -"

  Gerard kept his mouth open, wet and hot, against Frank's dick, as he cupped Frank with his hand, stroking up over his dick through the fabric, steady, not letting up at _all_.

Gerard sucked, hard and hot, letting it get wet and messy. Frank yanked on his hair, whimpering into his fist, shoving his hips up against Gerard's mouth, and he came, spilling out against Gerard's lips through the lace, hot and salty and so fucking dirty. Frank shook underneath him, hips up off the bed, like he couldn't stop it, couldn't control it.

"Jesus," Gerard said, giving one final lick against Frank's dick through the lace - he was so fucking into the feel of that, he could hardly fucking take it - as Frank whimpered again, softly, his hips falling down finally as he pushed weakly at Gerard's head.

Gerard was going to - he really thought he might - he pushed himself back from the bed and pulled his dick out because he was really fucking _definitely_ going to - "Jesus, Frank, so hot, that was so fucking hot," he gasped, jerking himself off on his knees right there. "I wanted to do that all night, I wanted to do that from the second I fucking saw you in that lace in the bathroom and fuck, _fuck_ , I wanted to bite your hips, wanted to fucking suck on them, wanted to - ah, fuck, ah, fuck, _fuck_ -"

He was gripping the sheets with one hand, and the edge of the mattress was cutting into his forearm as he jerked himself off hard and fast with the other, and he was telling Frank every single fucking thought in his head. It was the best and it was the worst and he was shaking so hard he was going to _die_. Frank was still panting for breath, and watching him, his mouth wet and open. Gerard groaned, frantic and losing it, coming hard over his own fist, biting back the noise so hard his throat hurt.

"Fuck." He slumped forward, his head on the bed right by Frank's hip, still sweaty, still shaking, still so fucking - "Fuck."

It was quiet in the room and he still had his dick in his hand and Frank was lying there in come-soaked panties and all Gerard could hear was his own breathing as he tried so fucking hard to get it back under control. He shook his head a little, his forehead still pressed against the mattress, Frank's hip really close to his face. "I'm sorry," he said finally, softly. "I'm - sorry I maybe turned this into - something."  

There was a long pause before Frank echoed him. "Something?"

Gerard bit his lip a little, and lifted his head, steeling himself as he gazed up at Frank's face. "Something weird."  

Frank was slumped back boneless on the bed, the neck of his t-shirt soaked in sweat even in the coolness of the room, his head tilted down to look where Gerard was looking up at him, his cheek still lying on the bed by Frank's hip. "Something weird," he said, like the only thing he could do was repeat Gerard's words.

"Yeah." Gerard said it quietly, feeling - weird.

Frank blinked down at him for a second, before giggling a little bit, then a little bit more. "Gerard," he said finally, almost hiccuping through the giggles. "I - it was pretty much going to be weird no matter _what_."

Gerard glanced down to where he maybe still had two fingers hooked into Frank's panties. "Well. Uh. Maybe you're right."

  Frank got his giggles under control, but his smile was bright as he shook his head at Gerard. "I'm always right."

  Gerard took his hand off his own dick, surreptitiously wiping his hand off on Frank's sheets. "Not always."

"Pretty much always." Frank tugged the sheets back up over his hips. "And _definitely_ this time."

Gerard looked at Frank in the dim room. "Maybe," he said.

"Definitely." Frank voice was quiet, but sure.

"Sorry," Gerard murmured, just in case, watching as Frank blinked at him sleepily.

Gerard tugged his briefs back into place and pushed himself to his feet - ow, ow, his foot was numb from kneeling on it. He stumbled back onto his own bed, tugging his t-shirt down, fumbling with the covers as he shivered a little in the air-conditioning,

"Hey," Frank said, while Gerard was still trying to sort through his spinning thoughts. Gerard blinked his eyes open, and saw Frank reaching out his hand across the narrow expanse between their beds.

Gerard reached out too and Frank squeezed his hand, fingers warm and a little sweaty. Gerard squeezed in answer, and Frank murmured to himself quietly, letting Gerard's hand go and turning over on the bed to settle down.

 He pressed his face into his pillow. His mouth kept wanting to smile, and his brain didn't want to slow down, and he fell asleep thinking about rough lace against soft skin.

the end  


End file.
